


The First Day of the Rest of Forever

by Khashana



Series: Immortals [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Atypical Sex, F/F, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Girl Penis, Jealousy, Kissing, Lesbian Character, Penis In Vagina Sex, Porn with Feelings, Trans Female Character, also Ransom chimes in but I don't want this to appear in his tag, oblivious idiots, taking it slow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 04:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18003968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khashana/pseuds/Khashana
Summary: March doesn't know why April talking about kissing other girls makes her feel like this. Once she figures it out, everything gets so much better.





	The First Day of the Rest of Forever

**Author's Note:**

> This will make less sense if you haven't read the first one.
> 
> Didn't quite make it in time for femslash February, but it's March content in _March_ so...close enough?
> 
> Thanks to Karin and cadenzamuse for beta!

The text comes in very late on a Saturday night.

_00:47 April: Guess what! I kissed a girl tonight!_

March stares down at her phone, frozen.

_00:47 April: There was a kegster at the hockey house, and Holster introduced me to the president of the LGBT Athletes association, and I met so many queer people_

_00:48 April: And this one SWH girl and I made out for like an hour!!_

March knows she should write back.

But she can’t.

There’s a sick feeling curling in the pit of her stomach that feels kind of like dread and definitely like _no_. She can’t bring herself to move her thumbs, to offer congratulations she doesn’t feel.

She puts down the phone and picks up some homework instead.

 

_11:39 April: Poke?_

It’s the next morning, verging on afternoon, and March still hasn’t replied. And clearly April has noticed. She’s been successfully ignoring it since she put down the phone last night, but the follow-up text brings a fresh wave of guilt.

She texts Ransom instead.

_11:43 Me: Saw a super cute dog today! <attached image> _

 

_20:16 April: The fuck, March??_

 

_23:58 April: You know what fuck you_

Monday is busy. Monday is always busy. Three of March’s classes meet on Mondays. It’s fine. It’s normal. That’s the only reason why she hasn’t responded to the text sitting in her inbox.

This can’t continue. She knows it can’t continue. April is her _best friend_.

 

April doesn’t write anything at all on Tuesday.

 

But Ransom does.

_12:23 Ransom: Hey have you talked to April recently? In like the last couple days?_

_12:30 Me: ???_

_12:30 Ransom: She was pretty upset on Sunday night just sayin_

_12:31 Me: Fuck_

_12:31 Me: I know I should_

_12:31 Me: I don’t know why I haven’t_

_12:33 Ransom: You should probably figure that out_

_12:34 Ransom: Or just text her back and figure it out later_

_12:34 Me: I mean now it’s too late isn’t it? I gotta have an explanation_

_12:35 Me: I’ve literally been blowing her off since Saturday night_

_12:35 Ransom: I know_

 

Fuck.

Double fuck.

March bites the inside of her cheek and hits the back button.

 

_12:37 Me: I’m sorry I’m being a shitty friend. I’m happy for you._

_12:37 April: Where the actual fuck have you been._

 

March winces. Punctuation.

 

_12:37 Me: I don’t know what’s going on in my head. I have no excuse. I’m really sorry._

_12:38 April: …._

_12:38 April: I’m really tempted to ghost you back_

_12:38 Me: [sad face emoji] I’d deserve it. Even Ransom told me off._

_12:38 April: You’re making it really hard to stay mad at you_

_12:38 April: Fine you’re forgiven_

_12:38 April: But don’t ever do it again_

_12:38 Me: I won’t. Tell me about the girl?_

 

The sick feeling comes back as April starts to describe making out with Roxie Smith, but March shoves it aside.

 _Why_ is she feeling like this?

March sighs loudly and flops back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. She needs to figure it out. Her relationship with April is too important.

She switches back to her chat with Ransom.

 

_12:40 Me: Thanks for the push <3_

_12:42 Ransom: Np <3_

_12:42 Me: it doesn’t make any sense_

_12:42 Me: Why would I be weirded out by her kissing girls_

_12:42 Me: I’M BISEXUAL_

_12:42 Ransom: ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯_

_12:43 Ransom: Are you sure it’s the girls thing that’s the problem_

 

Well, what else would it be?

Just for the sake of argument, March pictures April kissing Holster.

No change.

Huh.

_Since when am I that possessive?_

_I’m more possessive of April than I am of my own boyfriend._

The only conclusion she’s come to by the time she gets back to campus is this: _I should probably break up with Ransom._

 

April sees her for the first time since the fiasco and bodily flings herself into March's arms, and March squeezes her tight, relieved beyond words that she hasn't wrecked their friendship. Everything goes back to normal, except now she doesn't spend half her Saturdays at Ransom's place.

And then, on one completely unimportant day in the middle of exams, April smiles at her, and March is in love.

_Oh._

 

She doesn't say anything, because exams, and then she doesn't say anything, because it's summer break and that's not the sort of conversation you have over the phone, and then they get back to campus, and she doesn't say anything, because she's afraid. 

About a week into the semester, in the middle of a conversation March immediately forgets, she catches April smiling at her, and thinks, _I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look at anyone else like that._

And so she goes for it.

The decision makes her heart start racing, and March picks at her nail polish for something to do with her hands. She takes a breath, and another.

“I wanna ask you something.”

It seems like a long time, but is probably only a few seconds, before April nudges March’s knee with her own and says, “Ask me what?”

March gulps. _This is it. This is the moment._ And then, _it’ll be okay. Even if you’re mistaken, and she doesn’t like you back, it’ll be okay._

And before she can talk herself out of it, eyes glued to her thumbnail as though she can distract herself from what she’s doing, she says, “I really like you. A lot. Like. As more than a friend?”

“Really?”

And that. That sounds like hope. March looks at April, and her best friend meets her gaze, and that _looks_ like hope, too.

“Really.”

April beams. March can feel a smile stretching her own face to match.

“Me too,” says April. “For kind of a while.”

March’s very _skin_ is singing.

“So you’ll go out with me?”

“Yeah.” April’s the most beautiful thing March has ever seen, and her smile is bigger than March has ever seen it. “I’d love to.” She glances down at her knees, still smiling, as a tint of red suffuses her cheeks. March reaches out without thinking about it and brushes her fingers along April’s cheekbone, then cups her cheek, turning April’s face back up to look at her.

_Beautiful._

March wants to kiss her.

So she asks, and April says, “Please,” and March does.

A bone-deep certainty settles into her as their lips met, again and again. _This is how we’re supposed to be._

March pulls her knees up onto the bed and they curl up tightly together, still kissing. April reaches up and runs a hand through March’s curls, and March pets her cheek.

“Hi,” says April softly.

“Hi,” says March, and giggles a little. “You’re so pretty.”

“So’re you.” April pulls at a curl and lets it spring back, then runs her hand over March’s shoulder blade and down her back. March’s fingers swirl a circle on April’s cheek.

“Can we take it slow?” April asks quietly. “I’ve never done this before.”

“This? ‘Cause I know you kissed Roxie…”

“Nothing beyond that, though. Dating. Sex. None of that, not with women. And I know you like sex.”

“Lots of times we just make out,” March says. Because of course, April wouldn’t know this. March never bothered to go into detail about her hookups. “Or I get the other person off. Cause I like how it feels, I like the intimacy, but I don’t want to come out. I’ve only had totally-naked sex with three people.”

“Oh.”

A trickle of dread runs down March’s throat. _What if…_

“It’s okay if the dick thing freaks you out,” she says, unable to meet April’s eyes for this. “You’re not into men.”

 _Not a man, not a man, not a_ fucking _man,_ chants a voice in her brain.

 _Does it matter?_ asks a colder voice.

_Of course it matters._

“Hey,” says April, interrupting March’s internal dialogue. She puts her hand on March’s cheek and tilts her face back up to meet her eyes. “It doesn’t freak me out. I wondered about that back when I first realized I—liked you so much. Figured out any doubts then. I really do just wanna go slow for the usual reasons. I would even if you had a vagina.”

Relief floods March’s stomach, and she smiles, though it is a little shaky.

“Okay.”

 

They take it slow for three weeks. March texts April even more than usual. She craves April with everything in her, craves her lips, her smile, her snarky deadpan, the feel of her in her arms, her steel spine.

March asks her out for froyo, and April says yes, and they hold hands all the way to the froyo shop. There they have to break apart to fish out wallets and fill up cups. March gets chocolate and covers it with Swedish fish and gummy worms. April layers birthday cake and butterscotch, with just a sprinkling of Reese’s pieces. They grab a tiny table, mostly quiet except for noises of appreciation, and March hooks her ankle around April’s. April grins at her.

“You smile so much lately,” March realizes. April looks at her cup, reddening.

“I’m happy,” she says to her froyo.

“I’m glad,” says March, and tries to infuse it with all the sincerity she has. April must have heard it, because she looks up, and March is close enough to hear her breath.

They get markedly less productive at homework because now they start out pressed together, and sooner or later one of them caves and kisses the other, and then April climbs into March’s lap and they make out for hours. March is determined not to push her to move faster, set in waiting for April to ask for what she wants, every time.

She wants April to feel safe.

“Can I touch your breasts?” April gasps into her neck one night. A tingle of pleasure curls down March’s spine.

 “Please. Can I touch yours?”

“If you want. They’re not very sensitive.” April puts her hands on March’s chest. A thumb brushes across one nipple, and March gasps at the sensation. April stares a little.

“Wow. Mine do _not_ do that.”

“No?”

“Not at all.” She rubs the nipple in small circles, and March pushes her chest into her hand. She reaches out to take April’s breasts in her own hands and massages gently, rubbing circles into April’s nipples, but it garners no reaction at all.

“You weren’t kidding,” March muses. “I’ll have to try something a little rougher.”

April inhales. “Yeah?”

“Not now, though. When we get to the bras off stage.”

 

After two weeks of nothing but groping, April is ready for the bras off stage. And more.

“Hey.” April pops up at March’s elbow on the way to class and grins at her.

“What’s up?”

“My period’s in three days, so I’m horny as hell,” April says bluntly, blushing but steadfastly maintaining her gaze. March feels herself turn red too.

“So you want to have sex? Or are you telling me not to come over because you have a date with your vibrator?”

April chokes on laughter. “I want to have sex. If you’re down.”

“Oh, I’m down. Or up, as the case may be.” April winks at her.

 

April opens the door almost before March knocks on it.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” March steps in, and April shuts the door behind her. March leans down to kiss her, and it quickly goes molten hot, the lovely open-mouthed kind of kissing. March pulls away and tugs her toward the bed. “You’re so short,” she teases. “Gotta get up here.”

“I may be short, but you’re extremely tall,” complains April, and plops onto her lap. She pushes gently until March takes the hint and lays down, pulling her legs up beside her. April climbs on top of her to kiss her, hard. March opens for her readily, and April licks inside her mouth. By now they aren’t shy with each other, and April’s hands go to March’s new favorite place for them—massaging at her nipples and sending warm waves of arousal through her. March rides the sensation for a bit, and then, feeling bold, says, “Can I take it off?”

Instead of answering, April helps her tug off the shirt. March reaches behind herself and unclasps her bra, tossing it to the side.

April strips off her own shirt, and March runs her hands over her sides. April giggles as March hits her ticklish spots, and March grins and presses harder to make it tickle less.

March takes hold of one nipple, pinches, and twists hard, and April rocks her hips forward in apparent surprise. March grins, pleased with herself. She slips a leg between April’s and kisses her some more. She experiments, flicking her nails over April’s nipples, pinching, and grabbing, measuring the effect by how firmly April grinds into her thigh.

 

Eventually, April rolls off to the side. March worries for a second, until April says, “I don’t wanna make you dysphoric. You gotta tell me what you want.”

“I don’t like receiving oral,” says March. A little bubble of happiness forms in her chest that April had thought of that. _That should be the bare minimum,_ complains the voice in her head that sounds—like April, actually. _Shut up and let me be happy,_ she tells it. “But I like most other stuff. If you have condoms, I’d like to fuck you later. If that’s okay.” April’s pupils blow a little wider.

“That’s definitely okay. We could even do that now.” _That’ll be the day._

“It’ll take more than this to get me hard enough for a condom,” March explains. “Estrogen is kinda the opposite of Viagra. Can I finger you?”

“I mean. You can try.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t even touch myself like that,” April explains. “Doesn’t do anything for me. The clit-touching part, I mean, not the fingers-in-vagina part.”

“Huh.” March skates her fingers down April’s body and presses through her jeans, making little circles.

As promised, there is no reaction whatsoever.

“Wow. Okay. Can I take your pants off?”

April takes them off for her. March sits up and crouches at her side. She skips April’s clit entirely and slides further down, pressing two fingers inside April, who is already wet and loose from the foreplay. And without further ado, she goes to town, jackhammering her fingers and hitting the front wall of her vagina over and over in a way that had pleased any number of vagina-owning lovers before. April seems to appreciate it, by the series of little moans she lets out.

“I’m told I’m good with my hands,” says March faux-casually.

“ _God,_ ” says April, panting, and March allows herself to feel smug. She fingers April until her hand starts to cramp, and notes with pleasure that she’s fully hard. She jacks herself a couple of times, just to make sure.

“I think I can fuck you now, if you want.”

In answer, April fishes a condom out of her bedside drawer and tosses it over. March strips off her skirt and tights and rolls it on. April doesn’t stare, or, not at her dick anyway. She stares at March’s face instead, in a way that makes March feel, well. _Seen._

She imagines crouching over April and pushing into her, and—no. That isn’t going to work today. “Can we do it, not missionary? The idea is making me kind of dysphoric right now.”

“Yeah, sure. What about if you did me from behind?”

“Like, in your vagina, right?”

April shudders a little. “Yeah. Not into the other thing.”

“Sure.”

They maneuver so April is on her side, with March behind her, propped on one elbow to see better. April lifts one leg and reaches down to help March guide inside her, then crosses her legs over her clit. March had kind of been intending to rub her off.

“You don’t want me to touch you?”

“I don’t think that’ll work any better with a dick in me than without,” says April, a trace of laughter in her voice. “This is what works for me.”

Well, March isn’t going to argue with that. She drapes one arm over April, holding her to her chest, and April grabs her hand as March starts to move.

Somehow, that’s more intimate than the fucking.

After a few strokes, April figures out that she should clench on the upstroke, which squeezes March’s dick wonderfully.

“You feel so good,” March murmurs in her ear, feeling somehow as though they ought to be quiet, as though this were something sacred, and maybe it is. April twists her head around as far as she can and March leans down and over to meet her halfway and kisses her almost desperately, feeling as though something hot is building in her chest fit to overflow. Love, she supposes, or else a joy that can’t be contained. April squeezes her hand and kisses her back. March drops kisses over her face, her cheeks and chin and forehead, and April laughs, the most purely happy sound March has ever heard from her.

“What are you doing?”

“Cherishing you,” March murmurs. April gasps, so quietly March mostly feels it where she holds April to her chest, and surges up to kiss her again. March feels her orgasm starting to build, and deliberately slows her stroke.

April breaks the kiss to grouse, “Why are you slowing down?”

“I want this to last,” March says quietly. “We’ll only do this for the first time once.”

“Who knew you were such a sap?” But April is smiling.

“You did,” says March, and knows she’s right. She’s always been a sap for April.

“Like a damn pine tree, _god_ I love you,” says April, and March’s throat closes up. April is biting her lip, but she’s staring into March’s eyes, determined, brave, glowing with happiness. She didn’t say it by accident.

“I love you too,” says March quietly, and kisses her.

“I know,” says April when March breaks away. “You’re making love to me.” She smiles, a soft thing, and March tucks it away in her heart to keep and returns it.

April reaches up with her free hand to pinch her own nipple and twist, hard, and abruptly March can’t wait anymore. She speeds up, pounding into April, who clenches down on her tighter with every stroke, squeezing her thighs together in rhythm with March, until finally her face twists and her eyes shut, and March lets go and comes inside her.

It feels like it goes on forever, tearing a moan out of her throat that leaves it raw.

Somewhere in the middle, she slips out of April, and when she opens her eyes again, they’re face-to-face again, legs tangled, just holding each other. She reaches down to pull off the condom, tie it, and drop it into the trash can, conveniently located by the bed.

They stare into each other’s eyes for a while.

“Maybe it’s the sex talking,” says April quietly, “but this feels really important.”

March takes a breath and lets it out slowly.

_Like something permanent. Like it’s the first day of the rest of forever._

“Yeah,” she says softly. “It does.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm getting really paranoid that it's going to turn out some combination here is really problematic, writing a Black woman with an offline erogenous zone, or a trans woman liking PIV sex, or hell just writing a trans woman in explicit fic in the first place when I'm not one, and somebody's going to drop into my comments and tell me what a horrible person I am. (Is it paranoia if they've done it before?)  
> So I just wanna state clearly--this is autobiographical. Every aspect of this sex scene besides the being in love part comes directly from one or another actual experience of mine. From April's POV, I'll grant you, but for some reason the flow worked better from March's.
> 
> This isn't the last we've seen of March and April--keep an eye on Directionverse!


End file.
